Boots
by dashinginconverse
Summary: Seeing Kaitlyn in that particular outfit made him unable to think of anything else. Now, if only the rest of the roster would stop interrupting his attempts to grab her attention... PunkKaitlyn, set during 11/18/13 RAW Goes Country, requested by WWEfangirl31, oneshot


_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own anything; the plot belongs to WWEfangirl31._

_**Summary: Seeing Kaitlyn in that particular outfit made him unable to think of anything else. Now, if only the rest of the roster would stop interrupting his attempts to grab her attention... PunkKaitlyn, set during 11/18/13 RAW Goes Country, requested by WWEfangirl31, oneshot**_

_Alrighty! Time for another Punklyn, one of my personal favorite pairings. This one was requested by the __**WWEfangirl31**__, who also writes some great Punklyn stories. If you haven't checked out her fics, you totally should! I hope I did your idea justice! _

* * *

**Boots**

* * *

In one brief moment, CM Punk had been turned into a single-minded buffoon.

Something like this was ridiculous. It was something that immature little frat boys would be unable to control - no, not even frat boys. Little _teenagers_ with acne-riddled faces had the kind of seemingly uncontrollable urges he was experiencing at this particular moment in time.

And it was all because of an outfit.

Okay, his lovely girlfriend Kaitlyn was wearing said outfit and that contributed a lot to it, but _still_, Punk could hardly find himself able to think straight when his mind wandered back to the exact moment he saw her on this night.

It had been before the show, and he was talking with Kofi. Just casual conversation, nothing intense. Talking about the matches for the night, which spots they were excited for, the latest news in the wide world of sports.

And then he had spotted her.

She was talking to Natalya at the time, looking rather interested at whatever the blonde Diva was saying. Punk was happy to see her - he wanted to talk to her before the show started anyway, wanted to discuss with her the option of going out for dinner after the show.

And then he caught sight of that outfit, and his after show plans immediately changed.

The denim shorts, the dark button-down, the shining silver belt buckle, the _boots_...

Punk hadn't realized he had been completely out of it until Kofi waved a thin hand in front of his face, saying, "Hey, Earth to Punk?"

The tattooed Superstar blinked before looking at Kofi, who leveled his cool, steady gaze at him.

"Yeah, sorry, man."

"Distracted much?" Kofi asked, smirking.

"Nope," Punk said, popping the 'p' purposefully.

The wry gaze Kofi gave him and the way Punk squirmed underneath it only added to the Second City Saint's red-handedness.

* * *

It had become Punk's mission, since that moment earlier in the evening, to find Kaitlyn.

To anyone watching, it would seem as if he was walking around aimlessly, lost in thought - and, really, he _was _lost in thought. Lost in the thoughts of what he was going to do once he found his girlfriend. The very thought of her in that skimpy cowgirl costume was enough to heat his blood in a very pleasant - and distracting - way.

Quickly after he stopped conversation with Kofi, he spotted the very person he was looking for, slipping around a corner with a water bottle in her hand.

Smirking, he followed.

He tried to not look as conspicuous as he felt. Despite that, he could not escape the feeling that he felt very much like a stalker.

Kaitlyn was in his sights, looking completely oblivious to the affect her appearance was having on him at this very moment. Then again, she didn't know he was actively searching for her every where he went. Punk preferred the phrase 'actively searching' to 'stalking' any day.

Just as he was about to open his mouth to call out to her, someone occluded his vision.

"Punk, hey!"

Punk skidded to a stop. "Cena," he tried to sound pleased. "What's up?"

John Cena stood in front of him, blissfully oblivious to whatever inner struggles Punk was going through at the moment. He held out a hand and Punk shook it, trying his best to put on a friendly smile when he felt anything but.

As Cena started to talk about...well, whatever the hell he was talking about, Punk couldn't help but stare behind him - uncaring that he was being rude - as Kaitlyn disappeared yet again.

* * *

_There _she was.

Punk literally started to power walk as soon as he glimpsed her from afar - for what seemed like the umpteenth time that night. This time she was straightening the laces on one of those maddeningly attractive boots, fingers unlooping the laces and then looping them again. Never had such an action been so mesmerizing.

"Ka - "

"Punk!"

Spinning around and ready to deck whoever it was, Punk stopped short when he realized it was the very petite, very un-hittable best friend of the very woman he was after.

"AJ," he drawled, not in the least bit amused.

The Black Widow was looking at him with those dark eyes of hers, clearly aware that something was going on. AJ tilted her head to the side, looking as if she had the upper hand in...whatever she was doing. Punk stared at her, trying not to let on to the fact that she was in the way.

"How are you?" she asked, drawing out the question. If Punk didn't know any better, he'd say she was stalling.

"Fine," he replied tersely. "Just fine."

AJ smirked. "Oh, were you looking for Kaitlyn? She was just..." She trailed off, turning around to where he had spotted Kaitlyn earlier. "Oh, she was just right there, I swear." She then turned back to Punk, an all-knowing smile on her face. "That's _too bad_."

Punk twitched so hard it felt as if he was seizing. "_Yeah_...too bad."

* * *

After managing to lose AJ, Punk searched backstage like a madman, feeling as if his very sanity hinged on him finding The Hybrid Diva and showing her just how much he..._appreciated _her choice in clothing that evening.

He found her, leaning against the wall with her eyes closed - pre-match meditation. It was a quirk of hers that he often teased her for, but he found that he was beyond grateful for her one trait that allowed her to stay in one place -

"Hey, Punk!"

"Damn it!"

Zack Ryder looked taken aback for a second, eyebrows furrowing slightly, "Sorry, man, I didn't mean - "

Punk watched over Zack's shoulder as Kaitlyn pushed away from the wall and walked directly by the two of them. He could have sworn she gave him a little wink as she passed.

"It's okay," Punk said, following her retreating form with a smirk forming on his lips. "It's okay."

* * *

The Divas musical chairs segment made Punk cringe; the only good part whatsoever being the fact that he at least got to see more of Kaitlyn in those tiny shorts.

* * *

There she was, fresh from her "match", walking away from him.

_Away from him._

Punk opened his mouth to call out to her, only to be stopped yet again. This time, by Paul Heyman shouting his name.

"Son of a bitch!" Punk said, as he spun around.

"Yeah, she was a difficult woman, but I'd rather you not talk about my mother that way," he replied jokingly, a knowing smirk on his face.

Despite the mindnumbing frustration he was feeling, Punk found it within him to laugh.

* * *

"Punk!"

Punk almost had to restrain himself from screaming as Kaitlyn got away. Again.

"It's time for your match," the backstage manager said, motioning him towards the gorilla.

_Well, _Punk thought, a bitter smirk crossing his face as he clasped his hands and rolled his wrists, _I suppose getting my hands on the Three Pups and the Beard Bayou Brigade might just help...somewhat._

* * *

Making Seth Rollins Go to Sleep was something that made Punk give an almost relieved sigh. It didn't completely alleviate his irritation, but it went a long way in helping to resolve it. He ran a hand along the top of his head, smoothing his wayward hair, panting with exertion as the night's events played in his mind.

The match went through his head first. It was remarkable - the perfect combination of talent and charisma, all bottled in that squared circle. The crowd went nuts, the wrestlers themselves went nuts...

Punk smiled to himself at that. At least the night ended with one victory for him, when he had been striking out all night -

"Punk."

Punk stopped in his tracks, blinking a few times as if to assure himself that the voice he heard was real and not a product of his imagination. It wouldn't be surprising, considering the night he had so far.

But there Kaitlyn was, standing in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest and a smirk on her face. Punk's eyes roamed across her figure, taking in the sight of her in that _outfit_ and trying not to make it too obvious how much he wanted her.

"I hear you've been looking for me," she drawled, a playful smile crossing her lips.

Punk blinked again. "You knew?"

Kaitlyn shrugged nonchalantly, tilting her head to the side and saying, "I've heard people talking."

Punk stepped forward, closing the distance between the two of them. "And you didn't...you know, _try to come and find me_?"

The Diva's smile turned into a Cheshire grin. "It was more fun this way, wasn't it?"

The Second City Saint stepped forward slowly, chuckling in a slightly hysterical way, too on the verge of relief to be truly annoyed with his girlfriend. He closed the distance entirely and encircled his fingers gently around her wrist. Despite her calm exterior, he could feel the frantic _thump, thump, thump _of her pulse. "You must not know what you do to me, then, if you call that_ fun_."

"Well, you caught me now," she replied, a slight hitch in her voice as his thumb rubbed circles on her heated skin.

"Yeah," he confirmed, lips barely touching hers, "yeah, I did."

Kaitlyn pulled away just slightly, keeping herself minutely out of Punk's reach for just a few more seconds. She smiled when she heard his responding groan and then let out a groan of her own when he pulled her fiercely toward him, his mouth finding hers after what seemed like _years_ of waiting.

The kiss was intense, so intense that it made the two of them forget completely where they were, what they were supposed to be doing, how to act appropriately.

Punk couldn't find it in himself to care. His hands buried themselves in her hair, tugging lightly as he pushed her back against the wall, wedging a knee between her legs. She gasped at the contact, and Punk smirked against her lips, enjoying the reaction he garnered from her.

The tattooed Superstar moved downwards to kiss her neck. He felt Kaitlyn suck in a breath as his fingers trailed along the exposed skin of her stomach, slowly inching upward until they found themselves underneath her shirt, trailing lazily beneath a breast. He bit lightly on the juntion between her neck and shoulder causing her to almost cry out, but she pressed her lips tightly together as she tried to maneuver herself to get every bit of herself touching him. Her gloved hands found themselves in his hair as he moved back up to capture her mouth. He grabbed the crook of her knee and wrapped her leg around his waist. In response to this, Kaitlyn grabbed tighter onto Punk and flipped their positions, pinning his back against the wall.

"Shit," he exhaled, but the words were soon lost as Kaitlyn pressed herself to him.

Then, the two of them were lost. They might as well have been back at their hotel room for all of the care they gave as to their whereabouts. Hands ran over muscle, lips brushed, names were breathed desperately... it was all Punk could do to keep from -

"_Ahem_."

The word was loud, haughty, slightly amused. In their heated moment, they hadn't realized that they were being watched. And that voice was very, very familiar. And very, very annoying, especially under the circumstances.

Stephanie McMahon stood confidently, arms crossed over her chest, blue eyes scorching. She said nothing, only watched as Kaitlyn peeled herself from Punk's body and turned around, flushing so brightly it was a wonder that she didn't spontaneously combust. Punk pushed away from the wall, trying to not make his discomfort apparent as he eyed the Princess with his usual disdain.

"Voyeurism doesn't become you, McMahon," he snapped, though it lacked bite. His breath was coming out in shallow pants, his eyes constantly darting back to Kaitlyn, who was trying - and failing - to hide her amusement with the whole situation. "What? Is it so bad at home that you have to get your rocks off watching us?"

Punk had thought that would rankle her, but instead, she just gave that impish grin of hers, looking him up and down before saying, "_Clearly _there's not much to see here, little Punk." She shook her head, looking far too amused before turning on a sky-high heel and walking away from them, laughing all the way to her office.

Punk nearly bit his lip ring in half. Normally, he wouldn't lose his cool. Normally, he'd have a quip at the ready. But, this was no normal occasion. His patience had been stretched to the limit and he opened his mouth to call out to her -

Kaitlyn's fingers wrapped around Punk's wrist. He could feel her lean over, her lips just barely brushing his ear as she whispered, "My hotel room." It wasn't a question, but a demand he wasn't expecting. It caused his blood to pulse more hotly through his veins.

As the two began to walk, Punk pressed his mouth to her temple and Kaitlyn shuddered as she felt the cool indent of his lip ring where it pressed against her flesh. "If I can make it that far."

* * *

Later that night as the two laid together in a tangle of limbs, boneless and satisfied to the point of exhaustion, Punk curled a lock of Kaitlyn's hair around his finger.

"You have clearly made a habit of killing me," he commented softly, but not without a sense of mirth.

"Psh," Kaitlyn said, slightly squirming where she lie atop him, her voice filled with humor that was just so characteristically _her_, "you say that as if _death by sex _is a bad thing."

Punk could think of nothing else to say in response to that, and the rich chuckle that rippled from his throat was nothing but genuine.

Randomly, he glanced at the floor, catching a glimpse of the skimpy outfit that started it all, and a wry smile spread over his face as he thought of the amount of turmoil a few pieces of clothing could really cause.

And, as Kaitlyn had mentioned earlier, it really was the most pleasant kind of turmoil CM Punk could have ever experienced.

* * *

_**End.**_


End file.
